Violet shifted her weight from foot to foot on the station platform in Hogsmeade, trying to make sense of the enormous man that was calling the first years to him.
"Ron," she hissed. "Is it, er, normal for wizards to possibly be very big or small? Like him?"
"Nobody's quite sure how Hagrid- that's his name- got to being the size of four normal humans. But Fred and George told me he's all right, they were trying to get close to the Whomping Willow one day and Hagrid pulled them back just in time."
""Whomping" Willow?" Hermione asked, confusion in her eyes.
"Literally. It's a tree on the grounds that hits anyone who gets too close. You're not supposed to play with it, but my brothers don't set much store by rules. Now come on or we won't be able to sit in the same boat for the way to the castle!" Ron hurried them through the crowd to the edge of a lake that resembled nothing so much as a darkened mirror.
"No, Trevor!" someone behind them called, and Neville pushed forward to grab his toad as it tried to get into the water. The four of them splashed down the damp grass to reach the first boat.
The boats cut quickly through the slightly choppy water, then paused just past a heavy curtain of hanging moss. It was a castle- yes, an actual castle! Violet felt a moment of awe, then remembered all she had read about castles in her afternoons at the library.
"Ron," she hissed again. "Does Hogwarts have, um, plumbing? I can deal without electricity, but I've read that people in castles only shower a few times a year!"
The boat rocked back and forth as Ron laughed uproariously, prompting other students to shush him.
"Honestly! Do you really expect a bunch of teenagers not to shower all year? Imagine the stink! Of course Hogwarts has running water!"
Letting out a breath she'd been holding, Violet finally herself admire the castle. None of this was some giant prank! Magic was real! And she could…who knows what she could do.
She was still daydreaming, even standing in line for the Sorting Hat, until Hermione stepped out of line in front of her at McGonagall's call of "Granger, Hermione!"
"Good luck. You'll be fine," Violet whispered.
"RAVENCLAW!" It had taken a bit longer than the previous person, but soon a relieved Hermione took a seat at a table under blue and silver banners.
Violet went back to thinking and admiring the star-strewn sky that made up the ceiling. She would have to ask Hermione, or maybe McGonagall, exactly how the ceiling reflected the sky. Sure, it was charmed- but how did that work?
"Longbottom, Neville!" She looked up again.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
A bit later…"Malfoy, Draco!"
"SLYTHERIN!" shouted the hat- how could a hat speak?- as soon as the brim touched the blond head. Not SLYTHERIN- not with him- she thought desperately.
Soon, at "Potter, Violet!" she stepped forward on legs she could barely feel, feet freezing. Little whispers broke out all over the Hall. Ignore them. Dudley, like Petunia, used gossip like that, especially after being forbidden from hitting her.
The hat was so large that it fell over her eyes, which helped her nerves- at least, it blocked out the stares of every eye in the Hall.
"So! Plenty of knowledge, I see. A great mind…courage, curiosity, and- perhaps Ravenclaw-" The Hat was talking to her telepathically!
Wait! How can you think, if you're an object? Violet interrupted.
Magic, of course!
That's not an answer. I mean, how does the magic work? Who made you?
The four Founders of Hogwarts- they each are one House here- made me. They put a bit of themselves in. To choose, after they were gone.
Wow…the Founders are still here? Still Sorting? All that knowledge…
Yes. Now shall we get on with it?
Thousands…of years of knowledge. Wow. They'll know where to send people.
Including you. Now, as I said, you have a great mind. Curiosity. And a fierce independence, a thirst to prove yourself, to be someone great…you would do well in Slytherin, you know, it's all in your head…
Not Slytherin! Not with that git Malfoy! Whatever he has that's like them, I don't want it! Not Slytherin! Violet thought desperately.
All right, all right. Better be… "RAVENCLAW!" The Hat shouted the last word aloud to the entire Hall, and Violet tore off the slightly unsettling telepathic hat and went to join Hermione at the blue-bedecked table.
"What took the Hat so long?" Hermione immediately squealed, trying and failing to keep her voice down.
"I don't know, I was just asking it how it got the knowledge to sort students." An older student with dark, curly hair sitting across from them facepalmed.
"Potter, you stalled the whole school so you could interrogate a powerful magical object? No wonder you're in our House. I'm Penelope Clearwater, prefect," the girl whispered.
Hermione and Violet scowled as Ron was sorted into Gryffindor. But, at least awkward, fumbling Neville wouldn't be alone, and the girls hoped they could all study together in the library.
"I'm interested in magical objects," Violet explained. "See, I grew up with Muggles, and I know I'm not allowed to use magic outside of school-"
She didn't have to go on. Penelope's face cracked into something resembling an evil grin, and she finished. "-but objects- you could be a lawyer, Potter. Well played."
There was more food on the table here than Violet had ever seen before, except perhaps on Christmases where Aunt Marge also came to visit. And more variety. Some things, she could barely identify. The potatoes and roast chicken seemed safest, and the girls took small bits of the several new things.
Finally, with everyone full and sleepy, Penelope and another prefect, a boy, led the first years up to their tower. "Watch out for the staircases, they like to change on their own!" she called over her shoulder.
"Wait," Violet hissed. "So do teachers or staff charm the staircases, or are the stairs…alive? Sentient in some way and decide when to move?" She shuddered.
Hermione looked thoughtful. "No, I think the four founders put some kind of historical magic into the castle, and generations of witches and wizards kept adding their own spells on. At least that's the impression I got from Hogwarts, A History."
"Like a geology map. You know, from science class." Violet remembered the tall chart in her Year 5 class, showing layer upon layer of what made up the earth, and nearly tripped over the last step as she thought about thousands of years of magic.
They finally made it up to the blue-bedecked quiet of their new dorm after many more flights of stairs. Maybe Violet had eaten too much for dinner, because she had an odd dream.
The Hat was insisting she should have been in Slytherin, that it was her destiny, and odd images of the turbaned Professor and the dark-haired, hook-nosed one she had seen at the staff table tumbled through her head. She woke early the next morning, washing and dressing quietly, thinking of finding the library before breakfast.
Violet had always spent as much time in the Surrey library as she could. Magic or Muggle, she itched for the quiet, the knowledge, to be alone.
But as she crossed the seventh floor on her way down, thinking that the library would definitely not be on the top floor- she had read about the combined weight of millions of books causing library foundations to actually sink- she came across an odd creature. It (or was it her?) was pacing a stretch of quite blank corridor on tiny legs. No more than three feet tall, it looked like a very small goblin, but with smaller hands and outsized ears that flapped slightly as it walked.
In fact, Violet nearly ran into the small creature, stopping just in time. "I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, miss! I didn't mean to be in the way!" it squeaked, cringing as Violet moved towards it.
"No worries. Wh- I mean- who are you?" She checked herself from saying "what" just in time, thinking it probably wasn't polite.
"Daisy, miss. Just Daisy the house-elf."
"A house-elf? I just started at Hogwarts, I don't know-"
"House-elves are servants at the school and in Wizarding homes, miss. We live to serve. Bound to families- or in this case, Hogwarts."
"Is everything okay? You're pacing."
"All fine, miss. I am just wanting to use the Come and Go Room. Have to pass this stretch of corridor three times so it will reveal itself."
"A secret room?"
"Not really. I walk past three times, thinking hard about what I need, and the Room provides. We elves just use it for cleaning supplies, or a place to rest."
"Right," Violet mused, marking down the location in her mind. Hidden rooms that provided one's needs were interesting, sure, but nothing could deter her from the library. Or, to be more accurate, she wasn't in Gryffindor because she didn't want to just try to open a hidden room without reading a bit more about this strange new world first.
The house-elf had begun to walk away before Violet remembered. "Wait!" she called after her. "Could you please tell me where the library is?"
"Ravenclaw, miss?" Daisy asked, turning around.
"Yes, how did you- oh."
"Second through fifth floors on the right-hand side of the castle."
A three-story library? The Surrey public library only had two floors, and the top floor was mostly just books for adults- and here, right here, was a three-story magic library? Violet charged off at a run, before remembering the prefect's lecture on Houses and points from the night before, and forcing herself to walk. No need to put Ravenclaw behind before class even started.
The deep-shelved, stately library was at least four times as big as the one in Surrey. She felt a solid minute of awe before thinking further- how, just how, could a library of subjects she never knew existed be organized? She might never find what she was looking for! Walking down a row of books at random, she stopped, resisting the urge to pull down the first book she touched and just start reading then and there.
Ah, yes, there had to be a system to this- Violet edged closer to the shelf, and found tiny, golden numbers embossed on the book's spine, and she could tell by the varying fonts that the numbers were a label, rather than part of the book itself. Then, she walked further down, glancing and counting as she went.
Finally, it clicked. The numbers resembled nothing more or less than the Dewey decimal system- but, some enterprising wizard had, yes, expanded the number system to cover various subjects not existing in the Muggle world.
Violet smiled. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all. Even though it was still quite early, she made a beeline for the familiar reference desk- just the same as the ones she was used to in Surrey, only with quills and parchment instead of pens and a very early computer and microfilm system. Not so different after all.
She was standing by the desk, quietly reading the subject classifications on a sign out loud to herself, when a harassed-looking woman who vaguely resembled a vulture hurried in.
"What are you doing in here already? You can't have started a single class yet, have you left your summer homework that late?" the woman scolded.
Despite the harshness, Violet had experienced this kind of friction when she had started to go into the adult section of the Surrey library, or read something that was seen as not appropriate for her age or level. "No, er, ma'am. I'm a first year, you see."
The vulture woman seemed slightly mollified. "Always the Ravenclaws," she sighed. "Well, I'm Madam Pince, head librarian. It's usually just me, though sometimes older students help to keep things organized."
"Violet Potter. That sounds like a difficult job, I've been going to my local library since I learned to read, and they've got twice the staff for a building a quarter of the size!"
Madam Pince's mouth gave a tiny upward twitch. "Well, Violet, magic does certainly make shelving and returns easier. I know the Muggles do it all by hand. But that doesn't mean you can put the books back any old way! Mind you at least try to put them back where you found them, I don't care how famous you-"
"I know, ma'am," Violet interrupted out of excitement. "Be quiet, don't eat in the stacks, don't damage the books, don't climb the shelves, right? I love libraries!"
The harsh lines of the woman's face softened. "Well, maybe you won't be any trouble after all. Did you need something?"
"Thank you, no, not really. I just wanted to find the library, to see it. Then I realized I wouldn't know how to find anything unless I learned about how Wizard- I mean, libraries in our world work, so I looked around."
"Quite right. Hogwarts uses-"
"-some kind of extension of the Dewey decimal system?"
"Exactly. Here, if I write down the basic classifications for you, will you be able to figure it out from there? Come back in a bit. I can't and I won't hold students' hands through their research- especially not last-minute when they hardly step foot in my library."
"I understand."
"-and stay out of the Restricted Section!" Madame Pince whisper-yelled at Violet's already retreating back.
It was true- she did stay out of the section- but Violet stopped to read the sign mounted next to a darker, roped off area of the library.
RESTRICTED SECTION
Students must obtain a signature from one of their teachers in order to enter and check out books from this area
Hmm. What could be off-limits, even in a school of magic? She thought absurdly of Ms. Kaur hosting "Banned Books Week" at the Surrey library. Petunia had tutted, and a few patrons complained.
But, Violet, only nine at the time, made it her mission to read every book under ban. She wandered a bit through the Sunday-silent stacks, occasionally glancing at book subjects or titles, and musing how to eventually get into the Restricted Section. Professor Flitwick seemed the type to encourage his students to do extra research…
"Violet. You're going to miss breakfast if you don't get a move on. Here." Madam Pince handed Violet a tightly furled scroll of parchment over the burnished-to-perfection desk and had to half chase her out of the library in the end; Violet was very glad to have already packed and brought along her school bag.
"-there you are!" Hermione said, relieved, as Violet squeezed into a seat next to her at the Ravenclaw table. "I wondered if you had gotten lost."
"No, Hermione, I just got up early to check out the-"
"-library, right?" Penelope Clearwater chipped in. Violet nodded.
"But you should just grab some food now, it vanishes around this time every morning- no, don't eat it yet, just take what you need off the table, you've only got about a minute," the prefect said, checking her watch. "-and you've missed the owl post. I paid him for your Daily Prophet, here."
Hermione and Violet had just enough time to stuff bread, apples, and the Prophet into their bags before the bell rang. Violet quickly pushed five Knuts into Penelope's hand, and the girls dashed off towards the dungeons.
"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class! I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death…that is, if you aren't the usual dunderheads I have to teach!" Snape snapped at the assembled class ten minutes later. Ron, who was sharing a table with Hermione and Violet, rolled his eyes as soon as Snape turned his back to write on the board, but the girls sat up straighter.
Snape swung round again, glaring at them all, his black hair hanging in greasy curtains on either side of his hooked nose. "Li- I mean, Potter!" he barked, avoiding Violet's eyes. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Wait, had he nearly called her Lily by mistake? And asking this complicated question in front of the class- was he trying to humiliate her, or put across a double meaning? It seemed as though he was thinking hard.
She knew she had come across this in the part of her mother's old Potions book on the train, but in the excitement, couldn't remember the exact passage. And wormwood? Obviously it was also an important Potions ingredient, but for some reason, she thought back to the Chernobyl disaster, to the months where she and the Dursleys couldn't buy fresh milk or go picking in the forest. Dudley had thrown a fit- he only went on those scouting hikes in the hopes of finding additional food in the first place. "Chernobyl" was also a Russian word for a type of wormwood.
Even at her young age, the news about the disaster terrified her, and had even seemed to rattle Aunt Petunia, at least the time some crackpot televangelist claimed the disaster had been foretold in the Bible.
""And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from Heaven, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters; And the name of the star is called Wormwood: and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter."
Violet shivered for just half a second, and tried to ignore Hermione's hand bobbing up and down insistently in the air next to her. Wormwood- death, bitterness, regret- but what did it do as an ingredient? And asphodel was a type of lily. She had come across this in the index of the Potions book her mother had passed on. Lily had noted in the margin next to the ingredient that "at least they didn't name me asphodel" and noted that the ingredient was used in sleeping potions.
"Well, Potter?" Snape spoke coldly, "we haven't got all day!"
"Sorry, sir. I'm not sure what you would call that kind of potion, but looking at the ingredients, I don't think it would be anything very good. Asphodel is used in sleeping potions, and wormwood has similar properties, while also being very powerful and dangerous. Even the Muggles think wormwood can kill or poison. I would guess that if you combined and drank the ingredients, you would…go to sleep, forever." She quickly turned over the question in her head again. Death, regret, loss, apocalypse…and lilies.
Snape looked taken aback. "Correct in its essence. Combining wormwood and asphodel creates a powerful sedative known as the Draught of Living Death. Now, Potter, where would you look if I asked you to fetch me a bezoar?"
Violet had only come across "bezoar" once in passing, actually in a Muggle cat care book she had looked at at the library in Surrey. The book had warned owners to make sure their cat wasn't overgrooming or eating its own fur, because hair in the stomach could add up, calcify, and block digestive systems.
"Well, I can't think why you'd want one, but usually bezoars are found in the stomachs of cats and other animals that groom themselves a lot."
"We are no longer in the Muggle world, Potter. For your information, a proper wizarding bezoar is found in the stomach of a goat, and it will save you from most poisons." Violet's face fell- had he really called her a stupid Muggle?
"But sir," Ron broke in, seeing Violet's face, "she's not wrong, the cat thing is the other definition of a bezoar, and she grew up with Muggles, so- I mean, our cat got one of those bezoars once-"
"I did not ask for your input, Mr. Weasley. A point will be taken from Gryffindor. Now, Potter, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
This was not a question Violet had the faintest idea about, but Hermione was practically levitating out of her seat, hand stuck high in the air. "I- I don't know, sir. I think Hermione does, though? Why don't you ask her?"
Snape's lip curled. "Do not presume to tell me how to teach, Potter. Two points from Ravenclaw. Monkshood and wolfsbane are actually the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all writing this down?"
Fuming, Violet turned to her cauldron as Snape set them to making a simple potion to cure boils. Hermione had to grab her wrist twice to stop her putting in the wrong ingredient, because Violet was still turning it over in her mind. Bitterness, disaster, death…and Lily.
With two minutes of class left, Violet deliberately knocked over the remaining snake fangs she hadn't used in the potion itself, and made rather a meal of collecting every single one. Finally, she and Snape were the only ones in the classroom.
"Get going, Potter," he snarled.
"Sir," she said slowly, "I'm not stupid. You knew my mother, and you grieved her loss. Actually, you almost slipped up and called me Lily. I just- my relatives never talk about my parents- if there's anything you could tell me about her- I know it's a hard subject-"
Snape hesitated for so long that she was on the point of leaving the classroom when he said, in almost a whisper, "Lily was…she was very kind. And a very gifted witch, especially in Potions."
"Thank you, sir. I have her old textbooks, can I still use the one for this class?"
Snape seemed on more comfortable ground now. "I don't see why not. My classes don't brew any very new potions until N.E.W.T. level- sixth and seventh year. Now get out and stop asking so many questions- bloody ravens-"